


after the rain

by DJBunn3



Series: Voltron Bingo [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Pining Lance (Voltron), Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Some Fluff, voltron is retired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16013417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJBunn3/pseuds/DJBunn3
Summary: “I’ve watched you die so many times,” Keith says brokenly, pulling the blanket even closer around him. “Sometimes I don’t know what’s real and what’s a dream. I’ll wake up and think you’re really dead until I talk myself out of it, and then I just stay up and try to convince myself that you’re safe.”Lance almost misses the change fromyou guystoyou, but a small part of his mind registers it as important information. Suddenly, it makes sense why Keith’s here in his apartment at three in the morning.“Was it… Was it harder to convince yourself this time?” he asks, looking up sympathetically. Keith hesitates for a second, then nods.“I had to see you,” he whispers, wiping at his eyes again. “To prove you were still alive. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I was at your door.”





	after the rain

Lance wakes to a knock at his door.

Normally he wouldn’t be able to hear something like that from all the way in his room, but he’d fallen asleep slumped over his computer at the kitchen counter with his head resting on the keyboard, leaving a long trail of letters at the end of his word document. A quick glance at the kitchen clock tells him that it’s just past two in the morning, which is surprising. He usually wakes himself up at least twice before midnight--a paladin’s schedule is always chaotic and unpredictable, and even though it’s been years since they “retired”, he still bolts up in the middle of the night to distress signals that aren’t really there.

Another knock coming from outside brings his attention back to the moment. It’s unusual to have someone come around this early in the morning. _Maybe it’s a robber,_ he thinks, before scoffing at himself exasperatedly. Of course it isn’t a robber. Robbers don’t knock.

He slides off the barstool he’d fallen asleep on and pads softly to the front door, standing up straight to look through the peephole.

As carefully as he can, he unlatches the bolt lock on the door and opens it gently. It’s raining outside, and it smells like thunderstorms and wet grass.

He opens the door further, expecting to see someone standing right outside, but to his surprise there’s no one there. “Hello?” he calls softly, wondering if it really was a robber. Or maybe some neighborhood kids have decided to pull a prank on him, and he should go back inside before he can fall for it.

Still, it’s strange to have someone knock twice and leave before he even gets to the door. He frowns, taking a step outside and looking back and forth--first left, then right. It’s so dark out, he almost misses the figure crouched next to his door, their back to the wall, head buried in their arms.

Lance jumps, startled, before reaching back inside to turn on the porch light. When he looks back, the figure is still there, only this time it’s much more recognizable.

Keith is slumped against the wall of his apartment, completely drenched with rain. He’s shivering badly, and he doesn’t look up even as Lance reaches down and touches him on the shoulder.

“Keith?” he asks hesitantly, squatting down and shaking Keith’s shoulder gently. “Buddy, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

He’s surprised to see Keith here, but he can’t say it’s the last person he’d expect. After all, the former paladins had stuck pretty close after they’d retired their bayards and settled down to live ordinary lives. (Well, as ordinary as could be expected from five former space liberators.) They’d given each other every form of contact they could think of--phone numbers, emails, everything. They’d even made _two_ group chats with everyone--one for serious business like making plans, and one for the former Garrison trio to meme around in. So it’s no wonder Keith knows where he lives; they’d definitely shared addresses at one point or another, and Lance had even pointed it out when they’d driven by together a couple of times.

Still, what on earth could he possibly be doing at Lance’s apartment at three in the morning?

Lance frowns, putting both hands on his friend’s shoulders and shaking a bit harder. Keith raises his head and meets his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. He looks pale, and he’s got dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept in a few days.

“Come on, dude,” Lance says, jostling him into standing up. Keith falls against him, his head resting on Lance’s chest and his body drooping against Lance’s side as the two of them maneuver back inside.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” Lance continues, worried. “You’re gonna get sick.”

It’s alarming how much Keith resembles a dead weight as he leans into Lance, soaking his shirt in a matter of seconds and dripping rain water onto the floor. Lance leans him against the wall like a ragdoll, then turns back to close the door and re-latch it. He turns the kitchen light on, then digs through the closet in the hallway to grab a couple of towels.

He returns to the doorway, noting that Keith hasn’t moved at all. He’s still leaning against the wall by the entrance, wet hair dripping down onto his face and hiding his eyes.

“Here we go,” Lance says, rushing over and shoving a towel into Keith’s hands. He’s sort of surprised it doesn’t drop to the ground immediately, with the state Keith’s in.

He uses the other towel and starts wiping the water off of Keith’s arms and chest, ignoring how close they are together. There isn’t a dry spot on him, and he’s cold to the touch. He must have been out there a while, judging by the way his teeth are chattering against each other.

Slowly, Keith reaches up and starts rubbing at his hair with the towel, causing drops of water to fall onto Lance’s hands and arms.

“That’s good,” Lance says encouragingly, continuing to wipe Keith off. “I’ll get you some fresh clothes in a second, okay? Just keep drying up.”

Keith nods slowly, stiffly. He still seems so out of it, so far away from the present, that it makes Lance wonder if he’s already coming down with a cold of some sort. He moves to go to the bedroom to grab a change of clothes, but he’s stopped by a hand tugging weakly on his sleeve.

Confused, he turns around to face Keith, wondering what he might need. “You okay, dude?” he asks, frowning. “I’ve just gotta get some stuff for you to change into, and then I’ll-”

“Don’t leave me,” Keith cuts him off in a wavery voice. He’s still shivering, and his shoulders are hunched, making him seem so much shorter and smaller than he actually is. It tugs at Lance’s heart in a painful way.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, reaching up to unhook Keith’s fingers from his sleeve. “I’ve just got to go to the bedroom really quick.”

“Don’t,” Keith repeats, pleading. He looks up at Lance through the hair clinging wetly to his face, and in that moment, Lance sees a vulnerability he’s only seen a couple of times on his face. He softens, holding Keith’s hand in his gently, as if he’s a wild animal ready to bolt at any second.

“Why don’t you come with me,” he says, jerking his head in the direction of the bedroom. He doesn’t want to leave Keith alone, but he needs to get him something to change into before he freezes to death.

Keith hesitates for a second, then nods slowly, lifting himself away from the wall and following Lance into the bedroom. He leans against the wall and folds his arms over each other across his chest awkwardly, staring down at the floor.

Lance pulls away from him reluctantly, going to his dresser and digging through until he finds what he’s looking for. He turns back with a soft gray t-shirt a size too big for him and an old pair of sweatpants with the elastic stretched out.

“I don’t know how well these will fit,” he says apologetically, handing the clothes to Keith. “But they should do for now.”

“Thank you,” Keith says quietly, tucking the clothes into his arms. A couple of droplets of water fall from his hair onto the bundle.

“Go ahead and get changed,” Lance tells him, turning to the door. “I’ll be right outside, okay?”

“Do-” Keith starts, then cuts himself off. Lance pauses, looking back over his shoulder.

“Need something?” he asks, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Keith shuffles in place, staring down at the ground sheepishly.

“Do you have to leave?” he asks in a small voice. “Can’t you just- just turn around or something?”

Lance blinks, surprised. Out of everything Keith could have asked for, he hadn’t been expecting that.

“If that’s what you want,” he agrees at last, taking a step back into the room and turning to the wall. It might be a little bit awkward, but if Keith’s actually shaken enough to ask him to stay, he’s not gonna say no.

He hears Keith start to peel away his wet clothes and instinctively closes his eyes, despite the fact that he has his back turned. They stay like that for a few minutes, the rustling of fabric the only sound in the room. At last, Keith clears his throat and taps Lance on the shoulder.

“I’m done,” he says quietly, then sniffs.

Lance turns and surveys the scene in front of him. His shirt is a little tight around Keith’s shoulders, and his sweatpants only go down to right above the ankle, but it’s not a bad look. _It’s actually kind of cute_ , Lance thinks, then shakes the thought out of his head.

 _Stop it,_ he reprimands himself. _Now’s not the time. You can reignite your dumb little crush when Keith_ isn’t _sad and cold._

“Okay,” he says out loud, clearing his throat awkwardly. “So, I have to ask… What are you doing here?”

Keith stares down at his exposed feet sadly, and Lance automatically goes back to the dresser to get him a pair of warm, fuzzy socks. Keith shuffles around as he puts them on, careful not to touch anything in the room. Lance waits for him to stop moving before he speaks again.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, softer this time. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Keith answers, hunching in on himself again. “Not- not really. I’m sorry for waking you up. I just- I just…”

He trails off, crossing his arms over his chest again, looking ready to disappear. Lance sighs, reaching out and taking hold of Keith’s hand before guiding him to sit on the bed. He still feels cold, so Lance reaches around him to grab the blanket and wrap it around his shoulders. For once, Keith doesn’t protest about being coddled over. He even lets Lance pull the bottom of his still-damp mullet out from under the edge of the blanket.

“It’s okay,” Lance says soothingly, kneeling down on the floor so he can see Keith’s face. “Whatever it was, we can get through it, okay? You just have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Keith looks down at him from the bed, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders. “It’s stupid,” he says with a sniff, wiping under his nose.

“It’s not stupid if you’re upset about it,” Lance disagrees, patting his knee reassuringly. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

The two of them sit there in silence for a few minutes. Keith opens and closes his mouth a few times before he begins speaking.

“I’ve been having these dreams,” he admits at last, so quietly that Lance can barely hear him at first. “Nightmares. About Voltron.”

“Oh,” Lance breathes, understanding washing over him. He’s kind of surprised that that’s what was bothering Keith. It’s not like the five former paladins haven’t had their share of nightmares before, after all. Even before they came back to Earth, Lance would often wake himself up with bad dreams, or find one of the others wandering the halls in the middle of the night, unable to sleep.

“I told you it was stupid,” Keith sighs, dropping his head forward and letting his hair fall in front of his face, obscuring his eyes from view.

“No, no, Keith,” Lance protests, snapping back to the present. “It’s not stupid. I get nightmares, too, you know? We all do.”

“I know,” Keith says, shaking his head. “But these ones are different.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, Lance taps his knee again. “What do you mean, different?” he asks, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Keith says, shaking his head. “Like, sometimes I have dreams about dying in Red or Black or something, and those are fine. I can deal with them on my own. But sometimes it’s not me that’s dying--it’s everyone. Voltron, or Earth, or both.”

Lance nods reassuringly, still confused. He knows firsthand that dreams about dying together can be a lot harder than dreams about dying alone, but neither of them are quite bad enough to send him to one of his friends’ doors.

“And then- then sometimes it’s everyone _but_ me,” Keith continues with another sniff. “Sometimes it’s like, I’m there, but I can’t do anything except for watch everyone die. It’s been like that lately, and I just- I _hate_ it.”

Lance watches, horrified, as Keith reaches up to wipe at his eyes. “I hate being stuck on the sidelines and watching the Galra pick you guys off one by one, or- or not getting there in time and having to listen to you guys calling out for help in the comms, and then there’s just _nothing_ and everyone’s gone and I’m alone again!”

A hot tear falls onto Lance’s hand, joined by a few more seconds later. He stares down at them as they roll off of his fingers and onto the knee of Keith’s sweatpants, leaving small, wet circles in the fabric.

“I’ve watched you die so many times,” Keith says brokenly, shuddering and pulling the blanket even closer around him. “Sometimes I don’t know what’s real and what’s a dream. I’ll wake up and think you’re really dead until I talk myself out of it, and then there’s no way I can go back to sleep, so I just stay up and try to convince myself that you’re safe.”

Lance almost misses the change from _you guys_ to _you_ , but a small part of his mind registers it as important information. Suddenly, it makes sense why Keith’s here in his apartment at three in the morning.

“Was it… Was it harder to convince yourself this time?” he asks, looking up sympathetically. Keith hesitates for a second, then nods in admittance.

“I had to see you,” he whispers, wiping at his eyes again. “To prove you were still alive. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I was at your door.”

Lance stands slowly, then takes Keith’s hand away from his face. It’s wet with tears, but at least it’s starting to warm up a little bit.

Keith looks up at him questioningly as Lance presses Keith’s palm to his chest, right above his heart. They stay like that for almost a full minute, neither of them saying a word.

“Feel that?” Lance asks at last. “My heartbeat.”

“Yeah,” Keith says with a slow nod. Neither of them mention that it’s going a little bit faster than usual.

“I’m alive,” Lance promises, taking Keith’s hand between his. “Everyone is alive. We’re all okay.”

“I- I know,” Keith says, curling his fingers against Lance’s wrist as if he’s trying to keep him from pulling away. “I _know_ that. I just-”

He cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh, wiping under his nose with his other hand.

“It’s okay to get scared about that kind of stuff,” Lance assures him, reaching out and pushing damp hair away from his face. “I get scared, too. We all do. You’ve just got to remember that we’re safe now.”

Keith sighs again, closing his eyes and leaning into Lance. He looks tired--he probably wasn’t exaggerating about staying up late all those nights after the nightmares.

“Come on,” Lance says, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss Keith. “You’re exhausted, and I’m not much better. Let’s go to bed.”

Keith’s eyes fly open for a second, panicked, but Lance squeezes his hand reassuringly. “I’ll stay here with you, if you’ll let me. Maybe it’ll help.”

“… Okay,” Keith agrees at last, although he still looks concerned. Lance pulls his hand away reluctantly, then reaches over to turn the light off.

“I’ll be right outside,” he says, turning back to the hall. “Tell me if you need anything.”

He’s halfway to the door when he hears Keith clear his throat awkwardly. “Um… Could you stay?” he asks softly.

“Stay?” Lance repeats, looking back to the bed. Keith shifts uncomfortably, staring down at the floor.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to…”

“I will,” Lance decides, “if that’s what you want.”

Keith nods, still not making eye contact. Instead he moves to lay down on the side of the bed closest to the door, leaving more than enough room for Lance.

Lance makes his way to the other side, then sits down gently and looks over his shoulder at Keith. He’s tucked under the blanket, his head turned towards Lance, watching quietly.

“Thank you,” Keith says as Lance lies down, turning onto his side to face him. He sounds tired, but better than before. Calmer. He still seems different than usual, but at least he isn’t crying anymore.

“Of course,” Lance says, reaching out to brush hair away from Keith’s face. Keith smiles for the first time that night, rolling onto his side as well.

The two of them lie there, staring at each other without speaking. It should be awkward--they’re _friends,_ and here they are, looking into each others’ eyes in the same bed like some sort of couple, but Lance finds that he doesn’t care. If him being here makes Keith feel better, then he’ll stay as long as he’s able to. Part of him wants to move closer, but he doesn’t let himself to linger on the thought. There will be time to deal with his feelings and fantasies later, when things aren’t so fragile and unsure.

Eventually, Keith’s eyes begin to drift close, his face softening as he slowly falls asleep. Lance watches and listens as his breathing evens out, barely feeling tired himself. He reaches up and puts his hand against his own chest, feeling his heart beating evenly under his shirt.

He smiles to himself, then closes his eyes and lets his mind wander aimlessly, until eventually he falls asleep as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it : )  
> [My Tumblr](https://djbunn3.tumblr.com/)


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